


In the Ruins of Greatness - Interlude

by Corycides



Series: 100 Fics in 100 Days [18]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Playing around with characterisation, Ruins of Greatness Extract
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Monroe isn't good at breaking bad news - but sometimes it gives him an advantage</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Ruins of Greatness - Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> A possibly out-of-continuity, non-fanonical (is that a word) interlude from In the Ruins of Greatness

Extract from Ruins of Greatness:

Bass over-rode the relay and dropped orders to two of his men to go and toss the Mathesons' flat. It was unlikely Ben would have left anything informative there, but better safe than sorry. He sat up, kicking the sheets back, and reached for his clothes.

The brunette still in the bed made a disgruntled noise and crawled over to wrap herself around him, hot and soft and clingy. Her hands splayed over his chest, peacock-coloured Ms marked over the taut skin. She wasn't inked-in to the network, but some of the hangers-on had taken to wearing his mark in colours.

He rubbed his thumb over the bar of the M and she bit his shoulder. 'You aren't going are you?' she purred. 'It's still early.'

'No,' he said. 'It's not. I've family business.'

She stiffened and peeled herself off him, yanking the sheets back up to her tits in a huff. Her bright red lips twisted into a sour pucker. 'I don't know why you don't just get rid of that cold cow,' she said.

Bass pulled his body-suit on. He had a few more scars, but 15 years hadn't softened his body much. In his job he couldn't afford to get soft. He pulled on his boots and twisted around, grabbing her throat and pushed her down into the pillows. She choked and grabbed at his hands, breaking her nails on the slick nanoweave. Bass waited until he saw real panic in her eyes before loosening his grip.

'Don't insult my wife,' he said. 'Don't even talk about my wife.'

She swallowed, he felt her throat move under his fingers, and her mouth trembled into an anxious smile. 'I didn't mean anything, love,' she said, reaching up to stroke his face. He moved his head back, watching her coldly. 'It's just, I love you.'

'Do you think I care?' he let go of her throat and stood up, unhooking his chair from the back of a chair. 'I'm going to need this space back. Move your stuff out by the end of the week.'

He left her sobbing dramatically in the bed, calling him a fool, and headed down to his buggy. Skinny gutters-brats, all wearing the marks of their kid-gangs, mobbed him with promises they'd watched his car and had information he'd want. He tossed out a few chits and growled at them when they kept crowding him. Remembering their self-preservation instincts they scattered.

Bass got in the buggy and programmed the route home into the dash, fingers sliding over the dashboard. It felt rough, coated with grit even all the way down here. The car hummed to life under him and he sat back, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he watched the black, curving buildings flash by.

He'd bought a stack of rooms in what passed for an elite district in the Gutters. It was where the wealthy agrophobics lived. The slick, curved walls of the alien city had been plastered over and painted until it looked like a surreal idea of human architecture. Bass had stripped it all off his property, leaving it stark and unadorned.

Honesty, of a sort.

The car parked itself and Bass went inside, pausing to talk briefly with the M-inked guards in the hall. Julia had been by, apparently. For tea. He knew that wasn't true. Julia was plotting something, she always was, it was just a question of whether or not it would benefit him.

His wife, one guard told him uncomfortably, had retired for the evening.

Bass gave the man a cool look. 'And?'

'Nothing, sir,' the guard said quickly, staring at the wall over Bass' shoulder. He looked sweatily uncomfortable. Good.

Bass left him there and strode down the hall to the bedroom, a pass of his hand over the sensor making the door pop open. A quick command brought the lights up, filling the dark-walled room with dim golden light.

On the bed, Rachel stirred sleeping in response and draped a slim arm over her eyes. Her hair trailed over the pillows in silky, pale gold tangles and the soft curve of her mouth was bare-pink and vulnerable. Bass perched on the edge of the mattress and trailed his fingers along her arm from elbow to the soft, creases of her palm.

Her fingers twitched. She was awake, he could always tell, but if she opened her eyes they were going to argue. Bass' mouth twitched wryly and he leant over to press a kiss to her temple, lips lingering of the scented skin. Maybe he was a fool. 

'Rachel,' he said. 'There's been another collapse Dirt-side.'

She flinched up, propping herself on her elbow. Old fear swam through her liquid blue eyes as she stared up at him. 'Charlie?' she asked, voice tight. 'Danny?'

Bass shook his head and stroked her hair back from her face, strands sliding through his fingers as he tucked it behind her ear. He let relief soften her face, before he added the one name she'd not mentioned. 'It's Ben, he's dead.'

She shuddered and closed her eyes, lips creasing into a grieving line. Just for a second, fingers tightening around the nape of her neck, he wanted to hurt her. Even if it was hatred, at least he'd be the only thing in her mind. A tear squeezed between her lashes and ran down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.

'After everything he didn't do, you're crying for him?'

Rachel took a ragged breath. 'Don't, Bass,' she said. 'He's my children's father, he was my husband. He was your friend?'

'There's a lot of past in that statement,' he pointed out.

She squirmed back from him and tugged the sheet up, wiping her eyes on the hemmed corner. 'Where have you been?' she asked.

'Do you care?'

'You don't get to play at being jealous,' she said, 'when you've been with your mistress.'

He leant over her, propping his arm on the bed, and kissed her cheek, tasting salt.

'I'll get rid of her if you ask.'

'You'll get rid of her in a month anyhow.'

His mouth twitched in wry acknowledgement of that. She pushed him out of the way and got out of bed, reaching for her dressing gown. 'I should call Charlie,' she said, voice wobbling between concern and pleasure. 'They'll need me. I should go-'

'No,' he said. 

She turned to stare at him, hands stilled on her belt. 'Bass, Sebastian, please? They're my children.'

He shook his head and looked at his nails, rubbing at a ridge. 'It's too dangerous, you're my wife and people know they can hurt me through you. And she won't want to see you.'

'That's cruel.'

'I know.'

'Sebastian-'

He put his boots up on the bed. 'You know my conditions. Give me Ben's codes, Rachel.'

She lifted her chin. 'Give me a divorce,' she said.

Technically, she shouldn't need his agreement for that. However, none of the Gutters judges wanted to stop the generous flow of chits into their pockets.

'No.'

'Go to hell,' she told him and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.


End file.
